The nature of compromise
by elisabethjj
Summary: The women of Claire's family work together for once, staging a Peter/Claire intervention! Do not read if discussion of a psuedo-romantic relationship between canon Peter and Claire offends you- he is technically her uncle.


**_I do not own Heroes, any of the characters or any other recognisable aspect of the show. This is a fanfic not for profit or gain and intended as an homage to enjoying the show so much._**

**The nature of compromise**

When Claire thinks of the future, stretching on endlessly ahead of her, it terrifies her sometimes. There's so much question surrounding it, except there's Adam, and they all know how it happened with him, so that's pretty much that. There might be more out there somewhere, like her, but all she knows for now is three faces that won't be going anywhere: Sylar, Adam and Peter. It's the last name that causes her chest to ease up and let her breathe again. Peter won't leave her.

Because he is all she can rely on, she holds him that much closer. Whatever is going on, and wherever they have to run to, they are never far apart. When Claire turns 21, there's a quiet spell for a few years, where they can grab a modicum of peace and this crazy thing called normalcy. Claire enrols as a late-goer for college, at NYU, and lives with Peter. Peter works as a paramedic, miraculously pulling people back from death with his ever increasing arsenal of abilities. It scares her sometimes how powerful he is growing, but she knows he is not Sylar. (He's not even Adam. Adam visits them sometimes, half threatening/ half conciliatory, and she recognises him reaching out for someone it is safe to hold on to. She can't be that person for him, her fear and hate is too strong, but maybe if he asks again in another hundred years she'll feel differently. If they four are the only ones left, will that make them family? She thanks God for Peter every day.)

Claire graduates and Peter throws her a party at a bar, with cheap beer and good music and dancing all night. It's everything the Petrelli's look down at, and Claire loves it. She wears a short emerald dress she bought on a shopping trip with her mum, and a radiant smile sweeps her face when Peter tells her how beautiful she is. It doesn't matter that Nathan and Angela leave early, or that Lyle gives the pair of them funny looks all evening.

Micah Sanders, a teenager now, is there with his Aunt Tracy, who produces a magnum of champagne and chills it with a touch of her finger.

'Handy,' says Peter, and before the night is over he is playing at giving everyone cold shocks from his fingertips with his mimicked power. When almost all their friends have left and the sun is threatening to rise, Peter and Claire still sway together to the lullaby of the jukebox.

'Cold shock me again and I'll kill you,' she mutters when his hand snakes up her back, but he merely pulls her head in to rest on his chest.

'I'd come back,' he says.

'Promise?'

'Always.'

Claire tiptoes into their fourth storey apartment one morning, well before dawn, carrying her shoes so as not to wake Peter. He's awake, sitting at the kitchen table just through the hallway when she opens the door and she nearly squeaks she is so startled. She can tell he's using Matt Parkman's ability when she sees his eyes glaze over. Last night's cheap date turned into faceless fuck dancing behind her eyes, now his. He knows it doesn't mean anything, it's necessary and she's home and safe. Peter isn't angry, isn't cold, just nods slowly at her and slopes off into his bedroom to catch up on the sleep he's missed. They don't talk about it when she cooks him waffles and sausage for brunch a few hours later. They never talk about it, no matter which one of them is doing the sneaking in late.

On their days off, they are always together. They keep in close contact with Claire's family, with Nathan and Angela, and their friends. They make new friends from Claire's college, from Peter's work and from an evening cookery class they are taking together (it was either that or live off takeaways and Claire's cupcakes forever, which, in fairness, they could safely do, but why waste valuable energy healing from malnutrition).

Most people who know them are curious, but no-one has ever seen them so much as holding hands inappropriately and from time to time everyone notices either Peter or Claire stepping out of a party with someone new. The more astute friends notice it's never when the other one is there to see it, and the new someones never come around twice. So, mostly they adopt a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy and, really, they've all got bigger things to worry about in their lives then something which no-one can say even exists. It's so nice, says Nathan, that Peter and Claire are such good friends. It's nice for family to stick together.

The women in the family are not so naïve. It's somewhat of an intervention when Angela, Heidi and Sandra corner Claire one night at home, when Peter is working late.

'Jeez, guys,' Claire huffs, put out by the invasion of her personal business, 'if your sordid little theory was right, you'd be a bit late, don't you think?' Sandra grimaces and Heidi is quick to jump in and assure Claire that they aren't accusing her of anything.

'Except sleeping with Peter,' Claire clarifies, and gives them each a pointed look. 'We. Are. Not. Having. Sex.' She enunciates each word carefully, as if speaking to a very small child. 'He's Nathan's brother. No-one here is forgetting that.' She looks mystified at their accusations: if Peter and she have learned to live with it, why is it so hard for everyone else?

'Okay, Claire,' her mum puts her hands up, looking relieved. 'It's just, it's not natural for you to spend all your time together and be as close as you are, only with Peter. We know you love him but, honey, we never see you with a boyfriend of your own. You've got to start living your life, sweetheart.'

Claire smiles.

'I have a life,' she tells them. 'I know it's difficult to understand, but I do love Peter. He is my best friend, and we have a wonderful life together, with friends and jobs just like normal people. We share this apartment, look-' She points to the hallway off the living room. 'Two separate bedrooms. But, yes, one life.'

'Claire, we just think-' Angela begins, but Claire cuts her off.

'We know what you think,' she says. 'We don't want to cause you any pain, so please be assured there is nothing bad going on here. The truth is, we all know I wasn't brought up as Nathan's daughter and, although Nathan and I care about each other, we aren't father and daughter even now. My dad is Noah Bennett.' Claire looks at Sandra, who smiles and nods. 'When I met Peter, I didn't know he was Nathan's brother and he didn't know I was Nathan's biological daughter.' Claire shrugs. 'But it is what it is, and that's life. So we make the best of it. Peter is my soulmate, my best friend and everything to me. We protect each other, love each other and, I know we don't like to talk about it, but we all know that one day we will only have each other left.'

Heidi and Sandra look away at this, only Angela holds Claire's gaze and in her eyes she sees something fiery, alive and vital.

'Claire,' Angela says plainly. 'I don't like to be so blunt, but we all know there is another aspect to a relationship that is equally difficult to live without. How do you expect us to believe what you are saying, two young people like yourselves. It's impossible.'

'Ugh,' Claire looks down. 'This is so not a conversation I want to be having with my mom, grandmother or even particularly my step-mom. But since you want the gory details, fine. Peter and I do have sex, just not with each other. And not with serious partners. We just do it. We're safe and discreet and it's entirely separate from the rest of our life, do you understand?'

'Okay, Claire, we get it,' Heidi says kindly, seeing her step-daughter getting upset. It's a lie of course: they _think_ they get it, but what they see is tainted and far removed from the brilliant clean thing Claire and Peter have.

'We're not doing anything wrong,' Claire insists. 'We are just here for each other. I can't be without him; he's quite literally the only person in the world, two sociopathic murderers aside, who can ever understand me. But we know who we are. We're not sick. We know that could never be. It's never been like that between us. It's just… we need each other.'

Angela smiles at her, a little sadly, then reaches out her hand to pat Claire's knee.

'Well, we'll say no more about this, Claire,' she declares. 'It seems you and Peter have learned the nature of compromise.'

The three of them leave the apartment soon after that, and Angela is the last out of the door. Turning round, she strokes her granddaughter's cheek.

'I'm glad you have each other,' she tells Claire. 'You know I love you both very much.' It's a rare moment of tenderness from Angela Petrelli, and then she's gone and Claire half wonders if she imagined it.

She leans against the hallway wall wearily. After a second she raises her eyes.

'You can come out now Peter,' she says, and waits for Peter to materialise. He becomes visible sitting on the coffee table in the living room and stares at her solemnly. She stares back for a moment, and then they both dissolve into a fit of laughter.

'Aw, Claire,' Peter commiserates, 'rather you than me.'

'You coward,' she says between giggles, 'I know you got home twenty minutes ago.'

'You seemed to be handling it fine without me,' he says, and they order pizza and make a silent pact that that's the last mention of it between them.

It is a few more weeks than usual before one of them sneaks back into the apartment with the morning mist, and when it does happen, Peter showers away all trace of the other woman before climbing on top of Claire's blankets and falling asleep holding her close.

It's a compromise and it is not perfect, but in the madness of their lives somehow it works. And, for now, it is enough.

_Yeah... I'm not so sure about this one, I know it's not particularly polished and it's a bit, well, weird. I'd be grateful for some feedback. Pretty please? _


End file.
